Donald Duck Can't Hold It
by AJ the BlueJay
Summary: OMORASHI: As it turns out, holding your pee doesn't get easier when you wear no pants. Or when your uncle forbids breaks on the job. Bladder fails, woo-oo!


The clock struck 5:00 and a bell sounded, filling the inside of the Money Bin. Donald Duck sighed in relief and threw the coin he had been polishing toward the far wall. The vault door opened to reveal Scrooge McDuck, Donald's rich uncle, and employer.

"Closing time, Donald," said the old duck. Before he could say anything more, Donald had dashed right past him and out of his office.

As Donald waited for the elevator, he tapped his flippered foot impatiently. "Stupid Uncle Scrooge and his 'private bathroom'," he muttered. The poor duck had been unable to pee all day and was not allowed to use his uncle's restroom, the only one in the Money Bin. By the time he was let go for the day, he was eager to go home and relieve himself.

The elevator finally arrived and Donald stepped in and pressed the button for the garage, 10 floors down. The ride felt like hours against Donald's growing urge, and the cab filling up with other workers on its way down did not help matters. He tried to keep his fidgeting to a minimum to avoid drawing attention, but couldn't help but groan, convinced that the elevator was taking its sweet time to get to the garage.

At last, the elevator reached the bottom floor, and Donald made his way through a scattered crowd to get to his car. He buckled the seatbelt, feeling it squeeze slightly on his growing bladder. He mushed his thighs together at the heightened urge and gulped as he looked down. "Why, oh, why did I buy the large soda at lunch?" he mumbled, starting the car and pulling out of the garage.

Traffic in Duckburg was a given as thousands made their way home, but it was especially bad today. It was stop-and-go all through the city, which would've had Donald raging any other day, but his temper was tempered slightly as he concentrated on holding his urgent bladder. The high volume of liquid consumed was now sitting like a taut balloon in between his legs, and he bounced in his seat, begging for the traffic to move. No amount of honking parted the clogged lanes, and he seethed silently, his every thought on how much he was holding and how badly it needed to be released.

Donald pulled into his driveway, having survived the Evil Commute of Doom. His full bladder strained against its load, and as he jogged to the front door, he couldn't help but hold himself as every step jostled the liquid around, spiking his frantic urge. He couldn't stand remotely still as he searched for the house key, stepping from side to side as the pressure on his crotch began to hurt. The door finally opened and he hurried inside. It was the worst he ever had to pee, but he was gonna make it.

He put his free hand on the bathroom doorknob, but it failed to open. His eyes went wide at the locked door and he grunted as a wave of urgency hit his bladder. Donald crossed his legs and pressed both hands firmly to his feathered crotch, face turning red as he struggled to hold back the flood.

"Unca Donald, is that you?" came the voice of Huey.

As the pain subsided slightly, Donald removed one hand from himself and shook the doorknob violently. "Let me in! I'm gonna burst!"

"Uh, that's not a good idea," said Dewey.

"Yeah, the, uh, toilet's broken!" said Louie. "We're trying to fix it."

"We'll only be a few minutes longer. Just hold on until then," said Huey.

Donald yelled in frustration and worry, as he danced outside the bathroom in agony. Another urge shook Donald, and he winced as his bladder throbbed and leaked a squirt of pee. He gasped at the warm wetness hit his hand and spread amongst his feathers. It was becoming increasingly likely that Donald would not escape an accident, something not experienced since he was a young duckling. He was sweating from embarrassment and trembled with the effort of holding his aching bladder. He squeezed and rubbed at his crotch and hopped in place, panting at how hard he tensed up to try and remain dry.

"Hurry!" he implored his nephews, contorting his legs around and pulling his shirt down over his crotch. He could feel himself on the verge of losing control and whined as more pee escaped. "Nononononono..." he muttered, as his sphincter muscles ran out of stamina.

He could only stop the leak for a few seconds before his bladder throbbed again and released itself.

Donald's quack was drawn out and saturated with relief as the warm pee soaked into his feathers and ran down his bare legs. The pain he held all day vanished as the pee began to pool on the floor under him. He remained like this, frozen in bliss for the next few minutes, before the stream finally slowed, and his bladder returned to an empty state.

At that moment, the door opened. "Unca Donald, the toilet's fi-" began Dewey. Donald turned around to see Huey, Dewey, and Louie with their beaks agape. Donald's exposed lower body was wet, and even his shirt was stained on the bottom with his accident, which now lay in a puddle at his feet. Donald's face flashed a bright red, and he tried to smile at his nephews.

They would be talking about this incident for weeks.


End file.
